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And oh, how full she was from the meal Nigel Moreton’s maniacal pleasure made, the joy and satisfaction those acts had given him. It’s why she’d fed him his perfect fantasy. Basically gift wrapped it and put a big, bright, shiny bow on herself. Her use of illusion really had improved since her early days, so much that she was able to coat herself in the image she’d dragged from his subconscious and hold it so well despite her pain and hunger. He’d seen what he’d wanted to and not realized he was the victim at all. Oh, and when he’d tried to go for gold and disembowel her . . . such euphoria had filled her that the pain had been completely pushed aside. Her illusion had started to fall away, only a moment more, and she would have had him trapped beneath her; her retribution would have taken but a moment, although to Nigel, it would have been a lifetime.
She quickly held out her palms before another searing wave could distract her, and the red shadows she’d managed to hold back earlier surged before her, opening a portal to the one place she was guaranteed to find an end to this torture, one way or another, even if only temporarily.
Damn that son of a bitch straight back to his goddamn home. She didn’t care that he was doing his job, the asshole. This pain was his stupid ass fault. Okay, okay, so it was hers too, but it felt so much better to blame him.
She really did need to pick up her game, though, and put the kibosh on her morality versus survival dilemma. Leaving it so long between meals was proving to be a dangerous habit, one that she needed to kick, pronto.
Alas, one day, there would be a reckoning. She could feel it in her bones, in her blood, but she was determined it would only be on her terms. Those bastard Hounds were in for one hell of a rude awakening when the time came. As for those assholes up on high? Well . . . Hell hath no fury like hers.
With each step, it felt like she was being impaled on a railroad spike, her body seeking to explode. As her energy waned, her shadows took control and curled around her, carrying her through the portal to the most dangerous place a human could ever fear to go, a place that not even she wished to go, and she definitely wasn’t human. But, desperate measures meant a hybrid like her had to travel into The Demon’s Den . . .
As Jezzie hit the deck, she noticed one very painful fact: her shadows, upon entering the portal, had retracted into her body, taking with them any chance of cushioning her landing. If she weren’t in so much pain, so close to death, she’d almost think it funny, especially if it’d happened to someone other than her. As it was, every part of her body hurt like a frail old lady. Looking down at her hands, she noted the ashen hue of her skin, a dry, flaky quality spreading over her.
Fearfully, she knew her time was running out. Problem was she had nothing to trade for what she needed. With frantic eyes she scanned the room, her mind spun with possibilities as she took in the myriad of beings, all of questionable and dubious character. What would she be willing to do to continue to exist? And was her existence really worth it?
Elegant loafers leading up to expensive, tailored trousers filled her vision as her eyes shuttered up and down in slow blinks. It hurt to tilt her head up too far, so she saved herself the pain and stopped trying to catch a glimpse of him. He reached down a hand to touch her face, and her shadows made one more feeble attempt to protect her as they snapped at him like whips at the circus lions she’d seen in movies as a child. She pushed herself against the closest wall with the last of her strength. Her eyes didn’t make it back up again from their last slow blink down.
Chapter 2
DEMON’S DEN
EIGHT YEARS LATER . . .
Fucking fuck nuggets. Those shit stains needed an ass kicking, and she was just the bitch with the balls to do it! If only they’d come within three fucking feet of her. If only she could leave this blasted room. Stupid anti-portal wards. Unfortunately, they could sense how dangerous that would be to their survival, their limited brain cells keeping them back whenever she had the strength to follow through on her thoughts. And yes, okay, so her mother would wash her mouth out with Lysol if she could hear her thoughts right now. And Lord, did she wish she was here to do just that, but even her mother couldn’t find her in this rank pit of iniquity. Lord knows she was probably going crazy, turning over every stone earth-side trying to find her. But she wouldn’t. The portal had been sealed now except by express invitation. At least she cared enough to try. There wasn’t anyone else who would, except Aunt Rai Rai and she’d vowed never to step foot in such a place. She’d probably never even think of it as a possibility anyway.
Eight. EIGHT years she’d been stuck in this place. From the moment she’d fallen out of that blasted portal she’d been stuck here. Her shadows had held fast, thankfully, lashing at every hunched, horned, sometimes horny, always hungry, demon spawn that had sniffed her way, at least for a while. If it had just been her emotions that needed feeding, she would have been fine. Plenty of those here, depravity of all kinds, even some joy and love. Demons had their own unique code of honor and sense of family. That would have been easy to deal with.
But, sucks to be her, she’d gone and fed her need for emotions first and a soul part second. Demons love souls, and Demon’s Den had always had a steady supply of corrupt, and sometimes pure, souls going in and out. The demons traded amongst themselves and the darkest of witches. They had a reputation amongst those with the connections to know where and what to look for, and luckily Jez was friends with a couple of witches who skirted the fine line between dark and light, when the need arose.
Except some asshat had raided the place for illegal soul trading just days before her emergency arrival. The angels on both sides detested the trade, and the only souls currently in residence belonged to the owner of the ‘portal entry only’ dive. One Balthazar Morrigan. The Tzar, as he liked to think of himself. Ballzy, as she preferred to call him. Somehow he always managed to evade them when they came to call. The SOB needed his balls removed with a blunt spoon and shoved so far up his own ass he’d need very invasive surgery to remove them. The damn sexy fucker was a devious little shit that had preyed upon her weakness and caught her unprepared. He’d laid on the charm, claiming to want to help her. Her shadows had lashed at him hard and fast for a while. Protecting her until they too felt the sharp edge of her hunger and lost their will. Succumbing to the promises he’d made, urging her to agree to his offer. She fell for the charm, and into his bed. Realizing too late that she’d have been better served making a deal with the Devil himself. She let her mind wander back to her arrival in this prison of hers . . .
When she came to, a handsome devil with a cocky smile was cradling her on his lap as he sat in a red velvet armchair, his face all up in hers. Her head instinctively craned back to create some personal space, and she scrambled as best she could off of him, landing inelegantly in a tangle of her own limbs at his feet, looking up to see his soft smirk and twinkling eyes.
He looked at her with the concern of a parent watching a youngling flounder and fall as they learned to walk. It was kind of nice. She’d never had a male look at her that way before, having been raised by her mother’s best friend, a witch. Aunt Rai Rai kept most men at bay. She was kind of prickly about it, but would never say why.
That look of fatherly concern quickly disappeared though as he took in the sight of her cleavage, exposed to him by the disparity of their positions. Her fucked up daddy issues didn’t seem to have a problem with the switch. They were just glad that someone seemingly wanted to take care of her.
Thinking back on it, she felt the urge to vomit slide up her throat and the taste of bile touched her tongue. When she finally met the fucker who’d fathered her, she hoped these shit ass feelings of inadequacy resolved themselves. Otherwise, she’d have to find a shrink who didn’t think she was utterly batshit crazy. What with all the supernatural shit that was her life.
Especially considering what those feelings, and Ballzy’s asshole behavior had led to . . .
He made her comfortable on a matching velvet covered chaise. She knew he’d spoken, but she wasn’t tracking the conversation well enough to make sense of the words or even the sound of his voice. Pain shot white-hot needles through every cell in her body as she lay in that supine position. Soft hands tilted her face toward his, and he held her gaze with a steely determination.
“Listen closely, luv,” the pet name rolled off his tongue and somehow added to his allure. “You are close to the end. I can sense it, just as I can sense some vamp tendencies within you. Which makes your presence here even more unexpected, since vamps are pretty clearly on the ‘No Entry’ list. I don’t know what exactly you are, and without knowing, I’m not sure I can fix what ails you. So, you need to tell me, young one. What exactly is it you need me to do in order to save you?”
Her eyes flashed to his, judging his intent as though the scales of justice lay in her gaze. She knew better than to trust a stranger, even less so the likes of him. The owner of this place was feared and whispered about in the most hushed of tones, and clearly he was the owner, the way he commanded those in this place and not a single soul had questioned him or made a move toward her.
But she was desperate too. Without a soul to fill the well of her hunger, she would perish, slowly and agonizingly. Like the vampires in the movies she’s always loved to watch. Come to think of it, he looked like that one TV vamp she’d crushed on so hard not too long ago. The bleached blond British one who had a streak of asshole a mile wide and an accent that had made her panties wetter with every syllable . . .
“Back on track, luv. Come on, time to focus. Time is something you don’t have much of,” he reminded her. “Let’s start nice and easy. What’s your name?”
“J . . . J . . . Jez . . . Jezzie,” she stuttered out, hating the weakness of her voice and how hard it was to move her lips and tongue. She wouldn’t tell him her whole name. Names were powerful things.
“Okay. Jezzie, luv, tell me, what do you need me to do to stop this madness?” His voice sounded like warm mulled wine on a freezing winter’s night.
“S . . . Soul,” she uttered between clenched teeth. “Need to . . . eat.” His brows swept up toward his hairline with those three little words. She wanted to giggle at the look on his face, but couldn’t summon the energy.
“Oh, luv, you came to the right place, but we are fresh out of full ones. We got raided last week and everyone who isn’t me got cleaned out.” Her heart sank to her toes at his ominous words. His finger lifted her chin back up from where it had dropped onto her chest.
